Smaug alone in the Lonely Mountain
by NatzandtheRatz
Summary: CHAPTER FIVE UP! One month on after invading the Mountain, Smaug is bored. But then he finds unexpected (and pretty reluctant!) friends. Pure silly fluff!
1. Introductions

Disclaimer: I do not own Smaug. He is Tolkein's. Thank god, really. I mean, can you imagine how expensive a dragon must be to own?  
  
A/N: Set between Smaug's arrival at the Lonely Mountain and the return of Thorin and the dwarves. I was just wondering how Smaug occupied himself during that time. No, not like that! Rather a pervy dragon fancier, aren't you, what?  
  
1 Month After The Invasion  
  
Smaug curled his long tail around the treasure pile he was lying on, and sighed loudly. By Melkor, he was boooored. At first, it had been so much fun, killing dwarves, freaking out the people of Esgaroth. But now, one month on from invading the Lonely Mountain, life sucked.  
  
"I miss frying people." Mused Smaug. There were a few pesky elves down in Mirkwood he wouldn't mind roasting, but that was so far away, and it meant getting up from the treasure pile.  
  
"Maybe tomorrow I'll fly off and burn some trees in North Mirkwood." He muttered contentedly to himself, stretching out his huge wings.  
  
"He always says that." Piped a small voice from a tunnel leading into the cave from the Great Gate. "He never does though. Look at him, a lazy, fat excuse for a dragon!"  
  
Smaug looked around wildly. Who said that? How dare they insult him? He should toast the insolent fiend....Ah, maybe later, he contemplated with a yawn. It was just too comfortable lying on the hoard of dwarvish gold.  
  
"This is exactly what I'm talking about. I should fry alive for what I just said, but I won't, because he's too lazy!"  
  
Smaug tried to bury his head in the treasure, and murmured a muffled "Go away."  
  
"Don't you want to know who we are?" said the voice.  
  
"No." came the stifled reply of the dragon. "I just killed a bunch of dwarves and men. I need sleep!"  
  
"I am a thrush, and with me is Carc the raven. You killed our dwarvish masters."  
  
Smaug smiled wickedly. "I know. They were yummy."  
  
"Know this, mighty Smaug: you did not kill all the dwarves. The king under the mountain escaped." Said Carc croakily.  
  
"Fascinating." Said Smaug patronizingly.  
  
"They will return, one day. You will be slain and there will be a King under the mountain once more."  
  
Smaug raised his head. "Listen, feather-boy, I'll make a deal with you. If Thrain and Co return in the next 50 years I won't kill you, and I'll even let you annoy me as much as you want. If they don't return, I still won't kill you, lovely dragon that I am, but you must promise to shut up."  
  
"You jest in ignorance, worm." Said Carc furiously. "A day will come when you are made to eat your words!"  
  
"Blah blah blah. You just keep going on, don't you? Are you, like, the Duracell Raven or something?" said Smaug, rolling onto his stomach and looking the birds, who were perched on one of the many spears hanging from the walls.  
  
"The king will show you no mercy, dragon! You will die..."  
  
"Bored now." Said Smaug, picking up a great cup in his claws and bouncing it from wing to wing. "Lets talk about something else. How's it going in Gondor? Who's King now? And what's up with the Witch-King? Is he still in Angmar?"  
  
There was no reply.  
  
"Well that's just rude." Said Smaug passively. "I'll start singing if you don't reply, y'know."  
  
Still no reply.  
  
"Have it your way." Said Smaug serenely. He cleared his throat, involuntarily sending sparks over the treasure.  
  
_'This is the song that neeeever ends  
It just goes on and on my friends  
Some people started singing it not knowing what it was  
And now we keep singing it forever just because  
This is the song that never ends...'_  
  
"Stop! STOP!" cried the birds, terrified.  
  
"I knew I'd get you to talk!" said Smaug joyfully. "Hey, has fifty years gone by yet?"  
  
"No." said the thrush.  
  
"Oh. I know! Let's play a game! How about I Spy? I'll go first! I spy with my little eye, something beginning with....... Um....... 'T'!"  
  
"Treasure?" sneered the thrush.  
  
"Wrong!" grinned Smaug. "Guess again!"  
  
"Trophies?" asked the raven  
  
"Nooo!"  
  
"Trinkets?"  
  
"Ha! You'll never get it in a thousand years!"  
  
"Er..." said the thrush. "tapestries?"  
  
"You are sooo cold!"  
  
"I give up!" said Carc. "What was it?"  
  
"Do you really want to know?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Alright, alright, keep your feathers on. I spied with my little eyed, heh, 'Thrush'!"  
  
The birds groaned in unison.  
  
"Ok! Your turn!" said Smaug happily.  
  
"Alright." Said Carc pompously. "I spy with my little eye... something beginning with 'C'"  
  
"Ceiling?" said Smaug immediately.  
  
Carc muttered something incoherently.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"I said 'yes'!" said the old raven angrily, furious the dragon had got it in one guess.  
  
"Whee! I win!" said Smaug, shooting a spout of flame into the air in triumph. "This is fun!"  
  
Carc's feathers bristled, and he flapped his wings, nearly knocking the thrush off the spear.  
  
"I bid you farewell, dragon." Said Carc ferociously.  
  
"Ohh. Off so soon?" said Smaug disappointedly. He was rather enjoying their company. "Come back tomorrow! We can play hide and seek!"  
  
The birds flapped noiselessly from their perch and soared through the halls of the mountain towards the front gate.  
  
Smaug flopped his head down with a resounding crash upon the treasure once more, but happily this time. At least he wasn't alone on this dwarvish rock, he thought. And now he had a way to occupy himself until the dwarves returned. If they returned. Carc seemed sure Thrain had escaped, possibly Thror as well, but it was merely speculation from an old bird. Who, Smaug mused, was rubbish at I Spy.  
  
He yawned widely. Tomorrow, he would fly to Mirkwood and burn some trees. Right after hide and seek with the birds.  
  
A/N: That's it! What do you think? Bit random I know, but I just re-read the hobbit and needed Smaug fluff! Not sure whether to continue. Your thoughts, please. xx-Natz-xx


	2. Of Heroes and Grammar

Disclaimer (in a Crush-the-turtle-from-Finding-Nemo stylee!): Man, dragons need to be, like, free. Can anyone, like, claim 'ownership' of them? (Normal Voice): Well, apparently Tolkein and PJ and a bunch of other dudes can. Meh. But Smaug is mine in his heart. He may not have admitted it, or even realised it, but he sure as Morgoth is mine. All miiine! (throws head back and laughs manically) Mwa ha ha haaa! Ahem. (At the lawyers' request.) Smaug is not mine.  
  
10 Months on- Business As Usual  
  
Smaug's voice resounded through the halls of the dwarven realm of Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. To anyone who just happened to be passing the dragon's lair, his words may have caused some confusion.  
  
"I spy with my little eye something beginning with....... 'D'!"  
  
For, as you well know, dragons are meant to be rather impatient, angry, vicious creatures, who do not usually partake in a game of 'I Spy'. Merely bad PR, as any dragon could tell you.  
  
"Dragon?" answered the Thrush.  
  
"You rang?" came the thunderous voice of Smaug.  
  
"No. Is 'dragon' the answer?" said the Thrush  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Is it... dungeon?"  
  
"Does this place look like a dungeon to you? I cleaned up this morning!" said Smaug, rather affronted.  
  
"Sorry. No offence." Sighed the Thrush. Smaug could be so _emotional_ sometimes.  
  
"Well," said Smaug, slightly less hurt, "that's alright. But honestly, sometimes you can be so rude. I really made an effort today, and you just fly in here and call it a _dungeon_!"  
  
"Oh, don't cry!" said the Thrush desperately. The last thing anyone needed was an over-emotional dragon, who was even more likely to partake in a spot of pillaging and burning in the surrounding lands.  
  
"I'm **not** crying!" said Smaug heatedly. "It's just my sinuses swell at the change of the seasons. It's an allergic reaction."  
  
"Of course it is..." agreed the Thrush. "So... er... I give up. What was it?"  
  
Smaug smiled slightly. "Heh. I beat you _again_."  
  
"Yes you did. What was the answer?" insisted the bird.  
  
"Dwarves." Said the dragon proudly.  
  
"Dwarves??" said the Thrush incredulously.  
  
"Are you calling me a liar?" said Smaug, his lower lip quivering, and his allergic reaction to the seasons becoming very pronounced as the tears streamed down his smoking snout.  
  
"No! It's just... there are no dwarves here, Smaug." Said the Thrush, hoping against hope that maybe the dwarves had finally returned to slay the dragon.  
  
"Oh I know." Said Smaug. "I was merely making a point."  
  
The Thrush rolled its beady eyes. Confounded dragon! So what if the dwarves hadn't returned after nearly a year of being expelled from the mountain. They were probably mustering forces, and waiting until the dragon would be caught off guard. Yes. That was it.  
  
Although, thought the Thrush sadly, Smaug was rarely on guard. He cast an eye over the dragon, who was currently lying on his back juggling pieces of gold between his wings, while cleaning his fangs with a spear.  
  
"I'm bored again." Said Smaug suddenly. "Lets do something fun."  
  
"We're playing I Spy, aren't we?"  
  
"Yeah, but 9 months solid of I Spy kinda drains the fun out of it. Especially when it's in the same room."  
  
"Alright." Said the Thrush. "What do you want to do?"  
  
"Let's have a race!" said Smaug excitedly. "The first one to the top of the mountain and back...."  
  
Already the Thrush was speeding from the hall like the wind towards the gate and to the top of the mountain.  
  
"... Loses!" called the dragon after him.  
  
After 20 seconds the Thrush flapped back into the hall.  
  
"Heh. Made you fly!" crowed the dragon.  
  
The Thrush made no reply but dignifiedly stuck his tongue out at Smaug.  
  
"I feel a song approaching..." threatened the dragon.  
  
Abruptly the tongue was withdrawn.  
  
"That's better. Hey," said Smaug, raising his head sluggishly and looking around, "where's Carc?"  
  
"He's visiting friends in the Iron Hills."  
  
"Oh. Wow. The moody old crone has _friends?_ Wonders never cease." Observed the dragon.  
  
Suddenly a heroic figure appeared in the doorway of the hall, bravely brandishing a bright sword and a shield, in spite of his knees were knocking together in fright.  
  
"Oh mighty Smaug! I have come to vanquish thee!" the figure cried.  
  
"Whassat?" said Smaug, hiccoughing a burst of flame in surprise.  
  
"Well, it's about time!" said the Thrush. "Honestly, 10 months on and _now_ you want to slay the dragon."  
  
"Zip it, you." Said Smaug. "Here, why do you want to slay me? I've done nothing but sit in this stinky mountain for 10 months, without bothering anyone!"  
  
".. But... I... You're a dragon! You must be slayed!  
  
"Well, that's a little prejudiced." Said Smaug, the hurt tone creeping back into his voice.  
  
"The past tense of 'slay' is 'slew', I believe, sonny." Said the Thrush.  
  
"You must be _slew_?" said Smaug. "That doesn't sound right."  
  
"Oh. Don't know then." Replied the Thrush. "Is it 'slain'?"  
  
"You must be slain. _Slain_. Yeah. Sounds better." Said Smaug. "Hey, kid, it's 'you must be slain."  
  
But the hero had not so heroically ran away, no doubt scared witless by a grammatically correct Thrush and an Over-Emotional Dragon.  
  
"Ohhhh." Sighed Smaug. "Pity. He seemed nice, too."  
  
"Maybe it's for the best. He probably would have just ended up slaying you."  
  
"You never know. He could've thought of something fun for us to do. Hey, he might have even been able to beat me at I Spy. It would make a nice change, not winning for once."  
  
"Yes, but you probably would have killed him in your wrath at losing."  
  
"Don't be silly. Pah! As if my wrath could be incurred by I Spy!"  
  
"I bet it could. How would you know? You've never lost. You're wrath could be incurred at any moment, by _anything_."  
  
"I bet you half the treasure you couldn't incur my wrath." said Smaug.  
  
"I bet you two thirds of the treasure I could!"  
  
Carc stuck his ancient head around the front gate, and listened to the dragon and thrush's banter. By Manwë, they had a thing about betting.  
  
"I could incur your wrath so quickly it'd make you cry!"  
  
"Go on then." Challenged Smaug.  
  
"Uh... well... I let you win at I Spy!"  
  
"No you didn't. Lying is not going to incur my wrath, Flappy. Try again."  
  
Carc silently withdrew his head, and flew off towards the ruins of Dale, wondering if he could get a perch at this time of night. He couldn't stand another night of I bloody Spy, and his wrath might be incurred a lot sooner than the dragon's if he stayed. Bloody thrushes.  
  
A/N: Rubbish ending I know. But in the immortal words of Gary Larson: 'It was late and I was tired'. More to come, with better endings, I promise.


	3. No offence to the Nevilles of the world

Disclaimer: (Stubbornly) Smaug is not mine. I heartily apologise for trying to steal him from Mr Tolkein, and I accept full responsibility for any damage caused by my inappropriate attempt of dragon-napping. (Tolkein grudgingly accepts my humble apology and stalks away, a very scared Smaug limping after him.)  
  
A/N: This chapter really deals with how a good winged creature like the Thrush copes with being friends with a bad winged creature like Smaug.  
  
I know this one isn't quite so humorous as the last two chapters, but I'm thinking of leaving the fluffy aspect behind. No! Wait, before you flame me! Flame Pippin-Kun instead! For it was she who inspired me to carry this on until the dwarves do arrive back at Erebor. That's right! My random Smaug fic has evolved into a proper story! (Sort of). So that means a good many more chapters to come, amigos. And obviously it can't be fluffy and I Spy filled all the way through, but there will be a fair bit of silliness. Let me know what you think, cos I can just carry on with the silliness and I Spying, if you prefer. Anyhoo, back to the story!  
  
18 years after the invasion.  
  
"Thrush?" came the voice of Smaug, rumbling through the Lonely Mountain.  
  
"What?" a small bird hopped into the cavern, unperturbed by the enormous dragon in front of him.  
  
"Any dwarves yet?"  
  
"Let me check." Said the Thrush irritably, flying off towards the front gate. Smaug really did like rubbing his beak in the fact that the dwarves were yet to return to the Lonely Mountain, thought the Thrush. Flying all the way around the mountain, from the Front Gate to Ravenhill, then to the grassy Doorstep, which hid the secret entrance to the mountain. If any dwarves were to come, the Thrush was sure they'd enter the mountain by the secret door.  
  
But, no dwarves were to be seen. The Thrush sighed and sadly fluttered back to the suffocating warmth of the dragon's lair.  
  
"No dwarves. Yet." The Thrush added in an undertone.  
  
"By Morgoth, you're not still going on about that, are you? The dwarves aren't going to come back, Feathers. Accept, move on." Came the languid voice of the dragon.  
  
The Thrush chirped sadly. Maybe Smaug was right. Maybe the dwarves would never return.  
  
He was distracted when Carc the raven came wildly flying into the hall, crashing into a wall in his haste. Smaug and the Thrush confusedly stared at the excited raven, who was now circling the room at a dizzying speed like a crazed... raven. Which was quite a feat for a bird pushing two hundred.  
  
Eventually Smaug swatted the raven out of the air from where he was flying around the dragon's head and Carc fell to the floor, leaping up again instantly.  
  
"In the name of Manwë! What's wrong?" cried the Thrush.  
  
"It'sgreatIcan'texplainohManwëit'sfantastic!!!" said Carc very quickly.  
  
"Someone's had his Duracells souped up." Observed Smaug. "Chill your birdy beans, Carc! Take a deep breath, find the quiet place inside, or something."  
  
Carc took several deep, shuddering breath and seemed to regain his usual composure.  
  
"I've got a..." he began  
  
"Ooh! I love guessing games!" interrupted Smaug. "Don't tell me! Don't tell me! You've got a... beak?"  
  
Carc, still gasping for air, shook his dark head.  
  
"A hernia?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Alright! Let me think.... You've got a number one single?"  
  
"NO! I've got a _son_!"  
  
"Carc!" cried the Thrush. "That's fantastic!"  
  
"I would've preferred a number one single, but still.... Congrats, and all." Said Smaug.  
  
"This is wonderful... what are you calling him?" said the Thrush  
  
"We haven't decided yet. I like Neville, though." Said Carc longingly.  
  
Smaug and the Thrush exchanged glances.  
  
"Ah, well, I'm sure you'll think of something." Said Smaug consolingly. "_Eventually_."  
  
"Hopefully something other than Neville." Muttered the Thrush.  
  
"One can but hope." Said Smaug. "Hey, do you think he'll be any good at I Spy?"  
  
"Not if he takes after his father." Said the Thrush.  
  
An amiable silence fell over the cavern, broken only by the ragged breathing of the old raven.  
  
Eventually, Carc got his breath back, and flapped off back to Ravenhill to see to Newborn-Neville, leaving Smaug and the Thrush alone once more.  
  
"We really have to get him to change that name." said Smaug wistfully. "I may be evil, but even I, Smaug the Golden, can't sit by and let a poor kid go through life with the name Neville. That's just _cruel_."  
  
"I'm going to miss you, when the dwarves return and slay you, Smaug..." Said the Thrush unexpectedly.  
  
"What? Oh Morgoth. You're not going to get mushy on me, are you?"  
  
"Never. You didn't let me finish. I was going to say 'I'm going to regret it if I never incurred your wrath before the dwarves slay you.'" Said the Thrush haughtily.  
  
"You're welcome." Giggled Smaug warmly (Mind you, not too difficult to say things warmly when you're a dragon, is it?).  
  
"I don't know what on Taniquetil you mean." Said the Thrush.  
  
Smaug lay back on the treasure reflectively.  
  
"I'll miss you too, if the dwarves ever come back and slay me." He said, glancing at the Thrush. "Not that that's ever going to happen." He added.  
  
The Thrush extended it's tiny wings, and soared towards the tunnel leading Front Gate. Suddenly, he wheeled around at the tunnel entrance and looked Smaug directly in the eyes.  
  
"Not a word to the raven?" he said, almost pleadingly.  
  
"Not one word." Grinned the dragon, and the Thrush flew silently from the hall.  
  
A/N: = 18 is not some random number, amigos! I've done my research this time! Roäc (Carc's son. Thank god he changed it from Neville) says in the Hobbit: 'It is a hundred years and three and fifty since I came out of the egg', and Smaug resides in Erebor for 171 years (from 2770 TA to 2941 TA), meaning Smaug had lived in the Lonely Mountain 18 years by the time Roäc was born.

PS Sorry in previous chapters when I implied Thrain was the King under the Mountain. Of course it was Thror! Got my dwarves mixed up, precious. Ah well, happens to the best of us.

PPS A hearty bonjourno to my reviewers! Thanks for making me feel loved!


	4. Hungry Dragons, Pretty Jewellery

Disclaimer: La la la, it's not mine, la la laaa, too much caffeine...... wheeeeee!  
  
30 years after the invasion.  
  
Little had changed in the thirty years that Smaug had dwelled in Erebor. The dragon was as large and magnificent and fiery as ever, if a little fatter (but don't tell him that!), the Thrush was still cynical and haughty, and Carc the raven was just as ancient and snooty. The only real change was Carc's son of thirty years (young for a raven), Roäc. Who was perpetually curious of and unabashedly friendly with the dragon, something the other birds were disgusted at. This particular day found Smaug and Roäc passing time in the dragon's lair.  
  
"No, down a bit.... Ow! Watch it! Just to the left a tad... that's it!" Observing Roäc hopping about on his belly in his usual leisurely fashion, Smaug watched as the bird slotted pieces of gold and jewels together to form a mosaic on the dragon's underside.  
  
After a while the young raven flapped back to admire his work.  
  
"There! Nearly done!" he chirped energetically, in direct contrast to the dragon's relaxed conduct.  
  
Smaug ran a scaly hand over his newly decorated stomach.  
  
"Hang on! It's not quite ready! Just a couple more pieces...." Said Roäc, frantically sorting through the gems and fitting them together on the dragon's chest.  
  
"Don't sweat it, Feathers... I swear all you birds are on something. You're so stressed. Lay off smoking athelas for an evening; see how you feel without that in your system." Smaug yawned at the preoccupied bird.  
  
"Ok, finished" said Roäc finally. "Do you want to see how it looks so far?"  
  
Smaug moaned lazily. "Does that mean getting up?"  
  
"I'm afraid so."  
  
"Ugh... alright. Just because it's you." Smaug unfurled his great black wings, stretching them the entire length of the cave. He manoeuvred onto his stomach and climbed shakily to his feet, and with one mighty flap of his wings he was up and soaring from the cave, something he had not done in thirty years since invading the Lonely Mountain. Passing silently through the enormous dwarven tunnels, quite a feat for a creature of his size, he burst out of the Front Gate in a blaze of red and gold, and flew down over the River Running to inspect his bejewelled underside.  
  
Flying low over the river, he read the message the jewels tattooed on him, which read 'Thirty Years Unconquered: Erebor I Spy Champion- Melkor Would Be Proud."  
  
"Brilliant!" the dragon growled approvingly. "But you'll have to change it when I get to 'Forty Years Unconquered', you know."  
  
"Agreed." Smiled the young raven cheerfully. He did not understand why the Thrush and his father disapproved of the dragon; for all Roäc could see, Smaug was very friendly, if a little spaced out.  
  
Smaug circled around high over the mountain for a few moments. It had been long since he'd left the lair, and he was particularly hungry. Eventually he flew leisurely down to where Roäc was perched on an outcrop of rock near the summit of the mountain.  
  
"Say, young Roäc, what does a dragon have to do round here to get a bite to eat? Slay an elf lord or ten?"  
  
"I don't know. My father always finds plenty to eat down by Esgaroth; scraps from the men mainly." Replied the raven.  
  
"Yeah, right. What about something bigger? Horses? Cattle? Fifty young virgins?"  
  
Roäc looked disgusted and shocked.  
  
"I'm just joking, don't worry!" Grinned Smaug. "Horse meat gives me wind, I don't touch the stuff."  
  
Roäc decided to ignore this.  
  
"Well, there are plenty of fish in the Long Lake..."  
  
"That's more like it! Watch the fort, would you? Any dwarves show up- come and find me!"  
  
Cackling at the idea that the dwarves would ever return, Smaug swooped low, trailing the path of the river as it ran down towards Esgaroth; the Long Lake.  
  
--------  
  
Meanwhile, in Laketown, Odi and Freálf, the current occupants of the guardhouse, were engaging in a little I Spy of their own.  
  
"I Spy with my little eye.... Something beginning with... 'L'" Said Freálf proudly.  
  
"Lake?" said Odi monotonously.  
  
"How did you guess?" said Freálf incredulously.  
  
"Seriously, Fre', you have to get a new word." Sighed Odi.  
  
"Aw, come on, just one more go!" begged Odi's fellow guard.  
  
"Oh, go on then."  
  
"I Spy with my little eye...." Began Freálf, looking around for inspiration. Suddenly, looking past Odi, his eyes grew wide with terror. "D... D...D...!" he squeaked.  
  
"D? Adventurous, aren't we." Said Odi sarcastically.  
  
"Dra... dra..!"  
  
"Alright! Alright! I can guess it, you know. Let me have a go!" said Odi impatiently.  
  
"Dragon!" cried Freálf, pointing a shaking finger at the sky behind Odi.  
  
"Now what did I just say.... Dragon!?!" cried Odi, spinning around and squinting at the sky.  
  
And indeed there it was; a speck of red and gold soaring towards them at a great speed, the mighty beating of its wings audible from even that distance.  
  
"ARGH!" Cried Odi.  
  
"DRAGON!" Cried Freálf.  
  
Soon the word spread and an alarmed mass of people clustered on the narrow streets of Laketown, all pointing and shouting at the rapidly growing red dot in the sky.  
  
Smaug, as usual, was oblivious to the terror he was inspiring far below him, and was only concerned with how he could get a large amount of fish without getting doused with a large amount of water. Smaug disliked water as much as the Nazgûl disliked... well, water.  
  
Eventually swooping down to the lakeside and perching on the shore, he gazed thoughtfully for a few moments into the dark waters of the lake.  
  
Presently he heard the beat of wings much smaller than his own, and looking up he saw the Thrush and an apologetic-looking Roäc flying balefully behind him.  
  
"What are you doing?" Cried the Thrush half angrily, half in amazement.  
  
"Fishing." Replied Smaug confusedly.  
  
"You're terrifying the townspeople!"  
  
Glancing up, Smaug for the first time acknowledged the cries of horror coming from the town on the opposite shore.  
  
"Oh. So that's what they were screaming at! I thought it was a festival of some sort."  
  
The Thrush shook his tiny head disbelievingly.  
  
"They think you've come to burn and pillage!"  
  
Smaug looked shocked.  
  
"No!" he looked wide-eyed over at the town, and stretched his wings. "Well, I better go and explain, then!" he smiled.  
  
"NO! No! I'll go! You stay here!" said the Thrush. "You! Keep him here." He said to Roäc.  
  
The Thrush flapped off towards Laketown, hoping frantically that someone there could speak Thrush.  
  
Eventually, after much searching, explaining and reasoning, the Thrush flew back to Smaug and Roäc with an ultimatum.  
  
"They said that if you never attack them or anything, they'll send half of the fish they catch monthly to the mountain."  
  
"Was that all they said?" Said Smaug curiously. "No grovelling? No marvelling at my magnificence?"  
  
"They said a great deal more, most of it unrepeatable in front of Croak Junior here." Replied the Thrush, nodding towards the young raven.  
  
"It's Roäc."  
  
"Well, if they're sure." Said Smaug finally. "Can they start right away?"  
  
"Don't push it." Threatened the Thrush, fixing his eyes on Smaug's, before flapping back to the Lonely Mountain, followed shortly by the dragon and the young raven, already deep in discussion for the dragon's next jewellery slogan- 'Forty Years Unconquered- Erebor Thrush Pissing-Off Champion'.  
  
A/N: Please ignore the names Odi and Freálf. Totally made them up. Most likely influenced by Rohirrim names. Look authentic though, don't they? No? Just me, then. 


	5. A Turning Point

Disclaimer: Not mine, not my own, definitely not my precious.  
  
Fifty Years After the Invasion.  
  
Roäc flew in the cavernous hall, ready to re-tile the dragon with the slogan 'Fifty Years Unconquered- Erebor I Spy Champion', and was surprised to find Smaug not there. Inspecting the larger rooms and tunnels of the Lonely Mountain, Roäc could find no sign of the dragon, so he flew back outside to search the rest of the mountain.  
  
Eventually he found the dragon perched on the highest point for miles around; the very peak of the mountain. Roäc had never seen Smaug in a better mood. Of course, it was difficult to ever find the dragon in a bad mood, but today he looked especially happy.  
  
"Smaug? What are you doing up here?"  
  
"Roäc!" cried Smaug joyfully. "Do you have any idea what day it is?"  
  
The raven shook his head, nonplussed. Smaug grinned even wider.  
  
"Go on- guess!"  
  
Knowing the dragon's weakness for guessing games, Roäc decided to attempt a guess.  
  
"Your birthday?"  
  
"No! Well, it might be. I don't actually know when my birthday is. Bloody Melkor, never told me. But no! That's not it!"  
  
"Is it fish-delivery day?" said Roäc, referring to the Lake-men's customary tribute of fish sent to the mountain to keep Smaug away from Esgaroth.  
  
"No... wait.. yes it is! Where are those fish? But that's not it!"  
  
Roäc furrowed his feathery brows. Even though he was not so young a raven anymore, at thirty-two years of age, he still wasn't the brightest bird in the flock. Smaug, bored of the raven's confused face, decided to put him out of his misery.  
  
"Go and ask the Thrush. Or your father. Ask them what happened fifty years ago today." Beamed Smaug, unable to keep the glee from his voice.  
  
Roäc dutifully flew from the mountainside down to Ravenhill, landing amongst a crowd of his fellow birds, and jostled about to find his father.  
  
Carc was perched resplendently on small piece of rock jutting above the other ravens, nodding in sleep.  
  
"Father!" said Roäc impatiently, waking the old raven up. "What day is it today?"  
  
"Whayousay?" mumbled Carc. "Oh, eagles! Not mine and your mother's anniversary, is it?"  
  
"No! Smaug said there was something special about today."  
  
"Maybe it's his anniversary..." the old bird trailed off, nodding back into sleep. Roäc looked concernedly at his father, perceiving in his heart that the day was not far off when he, Roäc, would become chief raven of the Lonely Mountain. But for now, his father still lead the flock, and did not look like he would give up the ghost at that very moment, so Roäc decided to seek out the Thrush.  
  
Knowing the only place he would find him, Roäc immediately flew towards the Doorstep of the mountain, in front of the Hidden Dwarven door.  
  
And, sure enough, the Thrush sat there sadly, silently gazing towards the distant lands to the West.  
  
"Thrush!" said Roäc, landing on the rock beside the bird. "What is it about today that's made Smaug so happy."  
  
"No dwarves." Said the Thrush simply.  
  
"There are never any dwarves! I don't understand." said Roäc, confusedly. The time when the King Under the Mountain ruled was long before Roäc was born; he had only ever known one lord of Erebor, who was certainly no dwarf.  
  
"Fifty years ago today Smaug first came to the mountain. Fifty years ago today I told him the dwarves would return. He said if they didn't arrive in the next fifty years I had to shut up and leave him alone."  
  
"Oh! That's terrible!" Said Roäc, concernedly. "Now you'll never be able to speak to Smaug again. And to think, you never did incur his wrath."  
  
"That's not the point!" said the Thrush heatedly. "Why haven't the dwarves returned? What's stopping them?"  
  
Roäc didn't answer. He didn't understand the importance of a few dwarves, and besides, if they returned, Smaug would have to leave.  
  
Realising that it would probably be a good time to leave the Thrush alone, even though he couldn't understand what was upsetting him so much, Roäc flew off again to find Smaug and finish his mosaic.  
  
He came upon the dragon again, this time near the Front Gate as the fish delivery arrived. The nervous Laketown men hurriedly unloaded the huge cargo in front of Smaug, casting fearful glances at the dragon every now and then.  
  
"Twenty years of delivering me fish, you'd have thought they'd stop flinching so much by now, wouldn't you?" mused Smaug as the men cowered beneath him to hear the dragon speak. "Did you find out what today is?" he asked Roäc, picking up a fish in his huge claws and inspecting it.  
  
"Yes. No dwarves-day." Said Roäc.  
  
"Well done. I'm thinking of a new slogan:- 'Fifty Years Unconquered: King Under the Mountain'. What do you think?"  
  
"I think it might upset the Thrush." Said Roäc anxiously.  
  
"You're probably right, I suppose." Said Smaug, still scrutinizing the fish. "Well, do you want to finish the I Spy one, then?"  
  
"Alright." Said Roäc, watching the Lake-men as they unloaded the last of the fish and hastily rowed back down the River Running to Esgaroth.  
  
Smaug devoured a great number of fish before slipping back into the warmth of his lair, Roäc flying silently beside him, wondering at the irony of his situation. His greatest friend should be his worst enemy, who had killed so many dwarves and men. But Smaug seemed to be harmless. Gazing up at the dragon as he lay on his golden bed, Roäc was thankful he had never seen Smaug's wrath incurred.  
  
Finishing the pattern of jewels on Smaug, he left and flew back to the Doorstep, sitting beside the old Thrush in a profound silence in the deepening dark of night. Eventually, the Thrush spoke.  
  
"They will come back."  
  
"Don't you care that if they do, Smaug, or the dwarves, most likely both, will end up dead?" said Roäc angrily. That had been the only thing running through his mind.  
  
"Yes. I do. That's the problem."  
  
And without another word he flew into the night, leaving Roäc alone.  
  
A/N: Whoa! Getting deep, isn't it? I'm not good at this angst stuff- it depresses me. I'll try to make the next one a little lighter before we come to really dark chapters i.e. the return of the dwarves. 


End file.
